With each passing day of the campaign, the emotions of the people only seem to grow stronger.
This is no longer just a politician's race—it has become a movement. A stand. A sentiment that echoes through every corner of the town of Concepcion. And today, we were set to visit two more barangays—Pitabunan and Sta. Maria.
Even early in the morning, many were already waiting by the roadside. Holding up their banners, placards, and hand-drawn signs with messages like:
"Team Anjo – Bring Back the Red!"
"For a New Concepcion!"
"Andy Lacson, You Are Our Hope!"
At every corner, families were posted. Elderly folks seated on benches. Children excitedly waving. Young people shouting in unison:
"Andy! Andy!"
Even in Barangay Pitabunan alone, you could already feel the warmth of their welcome.
Every house we approached offered more than handshakes—there were warm embraces, hot coffee, candy, simple home-cooked meals.
But above all, there were open hearts.
—
By the time we reached Sta. Maria, our vehicle could barely get through the crowd. The road was practically closed off by people pressing forward, eager to greet us.
Some held red balloons. Others wore caps with "Anjo 2025" printed on them.
But the most striking gesture of all?
The garland leis they draped around Mayor Andy's neck.
One. Two. Five... Eight.
Eight garlands in just one street.
And with every flower laid across his shoulders, it was as if they were silently vowing:
"We won't let go. We won't turn away."
The love was clear in their eyes—not forced,
not bought, but sincere.
Despite the heat, no one left their spot. A few had tears welling up as they watched Mayor Andy pass by—as if his presence alone was enough to restore their faith in government.
Faith that somewhere out there, a leader still exists who listens, who approaches, and—most importantly—who loves.
—
As night fell, the Miting de Avance began.
First stop: Barangay Pitabunan, where the small stage was already surrounded by residents willing to stand for hours just to listen.
Behind the stage hung a large banner that read:
"Team Anjo – For a New Concepcion!"
One by one, the councilors spoke—each speech felt like an offering of one's self to the community.
But when Mayor Andy stepped up to the microphone, he didn't need grand speeches.
Everyone fell silent.
The air itself seemed to pause.
"I may not be able to give you all the solutions right away," he began,
"but there's one thing I can promise: I will never leave you. I will not walk away. No matter who I face, my heart will always stay with Concepcion."
Applause. Cheers. Some were visibly crying.
And before the emotions could even settle in Pitabunan, we were already on our way to the second rally of the night—Barangay Sta. Maria.
—
By the time we arrived, the people were more than ready.
Children and elderly residents alike were waving red flags. Others held up tarpaulins and handmade banners with bold letters screaming:
"BRING BACK THE RED!"
When Mayor Andy was called to speak once more, the entire barangay erupted:
"BRING BACK THE RED! BRING BACK THE RED!"
The small covered court was packed.
Some people stood outside, seated on ledges, clinging to the walls—just to catch a glimpse.
Everyone wanted to see. Everyone wanted to be part of it.
"This isn't a one-man fight," Mayor said.
"This is the fight of every mother who dreams of a proper health center.
Of every father longing for decent work.
Of every youth hoping for a brighter future."
—
As we were leaving Sta. Maria, I found myself stopping for a moment.
I turned to look back at the stage, now slowly dimming as the lights were being switched off.
People were still there, trying to catch up with Mayor—one last selfie, one last hug, one last "thank you."
And in the quiet of that moment, as Mayor Andy waved from the vehicle, I caught a striking scene:
An elderly woman, standing still, quietly clasped her hands in prayer.
Her voice was faint, but I could feel every word:
"Lord, please bring Andy back to us..."
And in that moment, I understood everything.
It wasn't just the color red they were longing to bring back.
It was hope.
Dignity.
The kind of love that only a true leader can give—one who never changed, not even after all these years.
And in the hearts of every person in Concepcion, a quiet prayer continues to be written:
"Red is the color of our future."